


The Paradoxical Commandments

by headsupimhere



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alpha America (Hetalia), Alpha Russia (Hetalia), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscarriage, Omega Canada (Hetalia), Omega England (Hetalia), USUK - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-07-09 12:37:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headsupimhere/pseuds/headsupimhere
Summary: Alfred finds a man injured and bleeding in an alley, so he decides to be the hero and saves the day.Each chapter is written to challenge a stanza from a poem by Kent M. Keith,The Paradoxical Commandments.





	1. Hear, Hear

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure to check the tags, there will be some triggering content in this story; you have been warned.

* * *

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.  
Love them anyway.

* * *

“Well, my good sir, it has certainly been a pleasure!” Alfred cheers, his tone rather light as he jokes around with such proper English, which is unlike him. Matthew stands before him, smiling timidly and attempting to avoid Alfred’s eyes, as he normally does. Being an omega, as Matthew is, is difficult, as Alfred has accepted (after being told so by many of them), but he still believes being an alpha is harder. Seriously.

“Yeah, I’m really glad you could come. It was a lot of fun. And hey,” he steps closer to whisper in Alfred’s ear after passing a glance over his shoulder. “I think that Ivan guy kinda likes you. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you all night.”

“Well, Mattie, I’d agree, but he was totally glaring at me. Then again, I can’t blame him for being jealous of this hot bod.”

“Alfred,” Mattie shakes his head, pushing a hand up against his forehead as he slowly shuts the door and steps out onto the porch with Alfred. “I’m serious.”

“Serious? Well, gee, Mattie, don’t use such big words.”

“Alfred.”

“I’m being serious, Mattie!”

“No, you’re not. I’m… look, I’m worried about you. You’re just so lighthearted and uncaring about the fact that you haven’t been on a _real date_ with anyone in forever, maybe even ever, because high school doesn’t really count.” Matthew has given this speech before, that much is painfully clear with the look of disinterest and boredom plain on Alfred’s face. “Give him a chance?”

“He’s an alpha, Mattie. Those kinds of relationships don’t really last that long. They always fight. And looking at Ivan… that would be a lot of fighting. I can already tell you that.”

“Just because _you_ are difficult to get along with doesn’t mean that _he_ is, you ass,” Mattie jabs a finger into Alfred’s chest, giving him a firm look, even behind those glasses that make his eyes look so much larger than they are naturally. “Get over yourself.”

“I’m trying! You told me to put myself together before I try dating, so that’s what I’m doing! I don’t have any interest in anybody. Maybe I’m just… y’know, not meant for having somebody else. ‘ _Solo ride until I die_ ’, man!”

“I told you that in eighth grade, Alfred. That was six years ago! _Six!_ ” Matthew’s normally quiet voice rises in volume just a little bit, still trying to keep it down, as the neighbours are likely asleep — and it’s sort of expected, with it being after ten at night. Alfred only shrugs, looking away. He really isn’t interested in anyone. He doesn’t _need_ anyone, especially Ivan. Two alphas, clearly both intent on being dominant no matter what, do not fit together, even more-so when Alfred is one of the alphas in question.

“I just don’t really care, Matthew. Can’t you be happy for me if I’m single? I’m doing just fine on my own, and have been for years.”

“You seemed to think your life was ending when you got shot down for dates in high school.”

“Yeah, well, that was a different me.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Matthew rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and stepping back towards the door, his hand on the knob. “Whatever. Do you have a way to get home? I can drive you, I haven’t been drinking. Had to look out for everyone, especially Gil and his brother… what was it… Ludwig? Yeah.”

“You sound _so_ sober, Mattie,” Alfred teases, and Matthew bristles.

“Hey, shut up! You know I have trouble speaking sometimes.”

“Boy, do I,” Alfred teases again, and Mattie plants a weak punch against his arm this time.

“Then you can get yourself home. Have fun with the homeless guys picking at your jacket.”

“That was _one time_ , and it was fucking terrifying! Don’t underestimate the scariness of a couple of dirty old men picking at your clothes in the middle of the night!” Matthew hums, rolling his eyes.

“I still say it was a dream.”

“You can say all you want, it was as real as I am American.”

“Pretty real, then,” Mattie nods. “Well, all jokes aside, get home safe. And text if you need me to come fend those homeless guys off again.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” Alfred takes a step towards the stairs and Matthew moves to open the door, stepping in and bidding the alpha farewell before shutting the door again and leaving Alfred all to his lonesome.

In reality, his house isn’t too far away, but with all of the people out every night, he can never be sure if he’ll make it that couple of blocks. It’s through almost the middle of town, too, which should be comforting, but it’s really not. The most activity — criminal activity, that is — happens at night in populated areas.

The thought sends a shiver up Alfred’s spine and he sighs, shaking his head, then takes a step and starts marching along his way. No reason to be afraid, he’s the hero and he’ll always be able to fend off any person approaching him. He’s bulky and frightening, especially with his bomber jacket, which puffs out in all of the right places and makes him look more fit than he really is — not that he isn’t already, but it’s just accentuating all of the best parts: the muscular ones.

He’s about halfway home when he pauses by an alleyway, hearing a faint sniffling and laboured breathing. As much as his mind tells him not to do it, that this could be a trap for someone more gullible than Alfred, his curiosity and lust for the satisfaction of having saved someone overpowers it all. He moves forward.

“Hello?” Alfred calls into the narrow passageway, one hand’s fingertips guiding him along a stone wall as he steps further into the darker section of the alley. “Someone there?” He begins to worry that he’s only gone in after a raccoon digging through discarded pizza boxes, especially when he attains no obvious answer to his questioning, but he continues on anyway. Whatever’s back here seems to be worth it, just from the way it settles in Alfred’s mind, and he knows if he turns back now that he’ll be thinking about it incessantly for the next few days. “Hello,” he calls again, fright creeping out in his voice. What if it’s a ghost, coming to reap him of his soul and eat it, or whatever they do?

Rounding a corner, he finds a direct lead-out, and his heart sinks at thinking that all it had been was the wind, seeing as he’d wasted his time feeling his way around this place without, seemingly, a real reason. However, as he pivots about on his feet, he’s about to let out a disappointed sigh before he spots something in the corner.

If Alfred hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought it was an animal, from the way it’s trembling and all curled in on itself, but he realises that it’s a human being within moments of stepping a bit closer. “Hello there,” he says, gentle as he can get his voice to go.

An immediate recoil is set on his legs as he sees the poor, shivering thing lift a pistol from somewhere beneath it and point it directly at Alfred. It looks up with dim green eyes, the colour still recognisable in the darkness, glaring despite being accompanied by chattering teeth. Alfred’s hands are lifted just a bit, level with his sternum as he looks the poor thing over.

If it weren’t for the build of the man — perhaps only a teen, maybe a little older — Alfred would’ve thought he was an omega, but his form reads beta, if not an extremely scrawny alpha, which is not out of the question, seeing as he seems homeless and underfed anyhow. His mannerisms, however, lead Alfred to lean more towards his being a beta.

Even as the barrel of the gun is pointed directly at Alfred, he doesn’t quite feel threatened by the trembling man. “Are you alright?” He’s whispering, trying to get onto his knees to show that he’s smaller and non-threatening.

As the man doesn’t answer, Alfred sighs a bit. “Are you hurt? I won’t hurt you — ain’t no reason to.” He reaches a hand out, watching as those eyes finally meet his own again, a level of suppressed fear rather obvious in them. The pistol seems to lower, if only a bit, and Alfred moves forward just a few inches.

It’s when he’s this close that he spots the reflection of a liquid against the ground, dark and blending into the colour of the dirt beneath him. In the light, he sees deep red stains on the man’s jeans from where he was sitting in the pool of red, but he doesn’t want to think about where all of it may be coming from, if it is, indeed, what he suspects it to be.

“Jesus,” he whispers, looking over the man to find any visible wounds, but he finds none, even as the weapon is lowered a bit further. “Who did this to you?” The man merely shakes his head, dropping the weapon and falling back against the wall, arms dropping to his sides as he lets out a heaved breath. Alfred spots a large cut in the shirt he’d been wearing, the surrounding cloth drowned in blood. There’s no doubt about what it could be at this point, especially as Alfred sees the poor thing’s eyes begin to drift shut. This sends his mind into immediate action, reaching forward and placing his hand against the man’s shoulder. “I need to get you a doctor.”

The man simply shakes his head, obviously dazed but clearly not wanting Alfred to leave — or at least not wanting to be left here. So Alfred glances towards the end of the alleyway, then at the carnage, and lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry, I need to get you a doctor. This isn’t something I can…” Looking again at the man’s face, he sees a little bit of a twinge in his eyebrows, but nothing much more. He reaches forward and places his hand on the man’s shoulder, gently moving him to keep him awake. His eyes drift up to Alfred’s, and although his thoughts are rushing, Alfred feels his chest ache with the way the man looks at him; he’s pleading silently through a gaze, and it’s just as much frightening as it is exhilarating. “Can you stay awake for me?”

The man nods softly after a moment of silence and Alfred stands, looking out towards the end of the alleyway, planning his route. He’ll need to run if he wants to make it to the nearest urgent care in time, and he’ll be lucky if he’s able to catch him in a free moment. He looks once more at the man before rushing out, turning the corner and heading directly down the street, his legs moving him faster than he thought they possibly could.

When he gets to the urgent care, he pushes into the office and breezes past the lot sitting in the waiting room, throwing his hand down on the counter in front of the receptionist and trying to speak through loud, heavy breaths.

“There’s a guy… he’s in an alley… got cut…” the woman sitting there gives Alfred a once-over, her brows tightening and creasing her forehead.

“You did, sir? I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until we are available for—”

“No, no! The guy did. Giant gash across his stomach. Bleeding out. I don’t know how long he’ll make it, just get me a nurse? Please? This could be life and death!” Alfred urges her, his voice showing an obviously high level of panic. He barely knows this guy, and here he is, attempting to save his life. Then again, he is _the_ hero, and that includes being the hero of this random guy.

The woman stares at him for a moment before slowly reaching over and pressing a button, likely paging a nurse, but Alfred is anxious as he taps his foot and his finger against the counter on alternating beats. “If you will please take a seat, sir—”

“I can’t take a seat. I’ve got to be ready to go get him with this nurse.”

“Sir.”

“Look, I just don’t want him to die, you know? I don’t know what happened to him, but he was alone and all cut up and he looked homeless, I’m afraid his weak little malnourished body won’t make it much longer.” The receptionist sighs, shaking her head.

“Even if I believed you, sir, I couldn’t help without knowing his insurance and his name—” Alfred stiffens and puffs out a breath, a silent growl rumbling in his chest.

“I knew this was a waste of time,” he shakes his head, bouncing backwards from the desk and rushing out the door, and back out to the street. As he’s running back for the alley, he haphazardly tugs his phone from his pocket and tries to keep his fingers stable as he finds Matthew’s contact and jabs the tip of his thumb into the little phone icon.

Lifting it to his ear, he curses every single second the omega doesn’t pick up, begging through the microphone that he does actually pay attention do his phone despite the party going on. After the fourth ring, Alfred’s begging has gotten louder and more breathy, but he’s reaching the alleyway again.

‘Hello?’

“Oh, holy fucking shit, Mattie, I thought you weren’t going to pick up.”

‘Alfred, I’m kinda busy…” he hears shuffling on the other line, then a sigh. “What’s wrong?’

“I need you to start heading to my house, _now_. I’ll catch you on the way there, just… bring your car.”

‘Why—’

“ _Do it, Matthew!_ ” Alfred’s tone is a mixture of terrified and outraged before he takes a few settling breaths. “You know the little jewelry shop? And the alley next to it? Pull up next to the alley. It’s clear. Don’t ask questions.” Alfred doesn’t think to realise how shady this all sounds, how it sounds as if he’s being held at gunpoint and is being ordered to bring his close friends into it, as well. Matthew is strangely silent, then the alpha can hear the sound of his front door opening and he silently thanks the omega for listening. “I’ll see you there, alright?”

‘Alright, Alfred. Be safe.’ Alfred hangs up the phone and ducks into the alleyway, searching quickly for the silhouette of the man from before. As expected, he’s still there, and Alfred pushes himself a bit faster to lean down and place a hand on the man’s cheek. Luckily, those eyes slowly open and look up at Alfred, though they seem even lazier and unresponsive than before. He’s not doing well.

“I have someone on the way. Not a doctor… they didn’t believe me,” Alfred sighs, shaking his head. “Hanging in there?” The man doesn’t respond, nor does he give any obvious hints to his having heard or having understood the question. His gaze just slowly lowers, drifting off to stare off into nowhere at all. Alfred takes a breath and nods. The guy probably doesn’t want to speak. He’s in enough pain as it is — it probably hurts to _breathe_ , even — so he likely doesn’t want to bother with hurting more. “Can you move anything? From the looks of it, you’re in pretty bad shape, but I also can’t really see you really well…”

The alpha takes a seat on the ground nearby, careful not to kneel in the pool still spreading steadily across the dirt. “I’m Alfred,” he says, trying to keep the man’s eyes open and mind active, trying to keep him from falling asleep. He’s seen it on a couple of those hospital shows. They’re not supposed to fall asleep, because they could never wake up, and Alfred doesn’t want that. “The guy coming is Matthew, but I call him Mattie. He’s Canadian, but also an omega, so he might apologise a lot, but don’t mind him. He’s trying to be polite,” he looks toward the opening of the alley and taps a hand against his thigh, anxious. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this, man. I don’t even know you and I’m here trying to save your life.” Alfred hunches over himself and slides his fingers underneath his glasses and to his eyes, rubbing them. “You probably did this to yourself and don’t want me helping.”

Alfred hears a little squeak beside him, his head snapping up to look at the man. His eyes are still alive and pleading, though definitely duller than they had been at first. Alfred takes a breath and nods, quietly apologising for even suggesting that this is at all self-inflicted. No one would do something like this to themselves, they’d make it quick and painless. Most people suffer enough in life, so they don’t want to suffer when — the sound of a car’s engine rings through the alley, and Alfred looks up to see headlights bouncing up onto the curb, then the vehicle’s engine silences, thought the lights remain on. The lights are illuminating them, and Alfred pushes himself to his feet, moving towards the car.

Matthew springs out of the driver’s side holding something, then rushes forward and forces Alfred to stop in his place as he notices what’s in Matthew’s hand. Another gun. It’s nothing that could kill a person, but could definitely leave them wounded enough to be affected.

“Where is he,” Matthew whispers to Alfred, and the alpha furrows his brow in confusion.

“He’s just over there,” Alfred gestures, and the Canadian sighs, still whispering.

“The guy who’s got you, not him.”

“What?”

“You called me to come rescue you, didn’t you?” Alfred stands there lost, then shakes his head and pushes the barrel of the gun down towards the ground.

“I need your help. I know you have blankets in there, and I’m sorry, but they might get a little bloody…” Alfred moves towards the injured man again, and Matthew finally focuses on the guy as he approaches.

“Holy _shit_ , Alfred! What did you do!”

“I didn’t do anything, Matthew, now please, just hurry. It’s already been long enough, I don’t…” Alfred shakes his head and looks towards the man, whose eyes are fluttering shut at this point. Matthew understands and moves to the car, pulling open the back and folding down the back seats as he retrieves the blankets. After lying one out on the floor of the back, he moves for Alfred again and holds one of them out. Alfred looks to the man and sighs. “I’m sorry, this will probably hurt a lot,” he says, then slowly lifts the man off of the ground.

It’s eerily soundless aside Matthew’s and Alfred’s brief directions now and again, but the man is settled in the back after a few minutes and Matthew finally turns to Alfred when the alpha tries to clamber in beside him. “I want you to drive.”

“What?” Alfred says, turning on Matthew with a hurt, betrayed sort of expression. “But—”

“No, I have more medical practice than you do. Besides, you always say that I drive really recklessly, and with him hurt as bad as he is…” Alfred’s looks softens into disappointment and he climbs out, allowing Matthew to take his place. “Can you pass me some ibuprofen from the console, and then the bottle of water?” Alfred nods, moving for the front seat after shutting the trunk.

After tossing the items back to him, Alfred finds that Matthew’s keys are still in the ignition when he sits in the driver’s seat, so he starts the engine again and waits for Matthew’s O-K.

It comes a few moments later, after a brief silence muddied by shuffling, and it comes with the order to head for Alfred’s rather than Matthew’s, seeing as the omega doesn’t have the capabilities of taking care of someone right now. Alfred really doesn't either, but considering that Alfred found the guy, it’s sort of expected.

They drive in silence for just a few minutes before Alfred pulls up into a spot in the parking complex for his apartment building, and Alfred turns over his shoulder to look back at the pair. Matthew’s got his hand pressing against the stomach wound, applying pressure where he can, clearly, but the look on the man’s face is clearly pained, as if there’s something else hurting inside. Alfred frowns at the scent of pain hanging thickly in the space of the car, stepping out and moving to open the door for them after taking out the keys and dropping them into his jacket’s pocket.

Matthew moves around the man and climbs out, allowing Alfred to reach in and pick him up, including the blanket used for padding. The door is shut behind them and Alfred moves for the door, Matthew tugging it open and jabbing at the elevator button as soon as they’re close enough to it. The doors open and they step in, then they shut and Alfred lets out a breath.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Matthew shakes his head, looking up at the man in Alfred’s arms, whose head is resting against the alpha’s shoulder as his breaths come quick and shallow. “Only _you_ would do this, Alfred.”

“I know,” Alfred nods, looking up at the numbers slowly climbing. “But he just looked so hurt, I didn’t want to leave him there to die.”

“Yeah,” Matthew nods.

“Do you think it would’ve been right to take him to the hospital, Mattie?”

“No, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“There’s a great big cut in his stomach, Matthew, how bad did you think it was?”

“It’s really not that bad,” Matthew shakes his head, looking towards the doors. “Just a little nick. His shirt is all torn, though, and the cut bled on it, but all of that bleeding is not coming from that. It’s like a cat scratch.”

“Those still hurt like hell,” Alfred comments, and Matthew sighs.

“I mean in size.”

The doors open and Alfred leads out and down the hallway, gesturing with his head to his left pocket for Matthew to dig into, and the door is finally open. Alfred breathes the fresh air of home, but he doesn’t take long and moves immediately for his bedroom, bumping the light switch with his elbow and lying the man down, pulling the blankets away.

Sure enough, Matthew is right. But Alfred remembers such a large puddle of blood… where did all of that go? The man’s not bleeding nearly as bad as he recalls.

“See?” Matthew quips from the doorway, and Alfred nods.

“Why isn’t he bleeding more? There was so much blood…” Alfred says, confusedly. The man’s eyes drift up to Alfred’s and slowly blink.

“There was hardly anything on the ground, Alfred. It was mostly on his clothes, and what you see is all there was there.” The omega moves into the room and pushes Alfred aside, looking down on the man. “It’s not bleeding as bad anymore. But…” Matthew glances at the rest of the blood. “Do you mind if I check to see what’s going on?” The omega is questioning someone, but it doesn’t seem to be directed particularly at either one of the others in the room. Alfred hums his agreement and the man slowly nods, his head rising from the bed just a bit to express his own.

Matthew makes slow work of removing the torn shirt, but as soon as it is set to the side, Alfred’s eyes widen, and the omega freezes, silent.

“Is…” Alfred says, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, Matthew, is he…”

“Pregnant,” Matthew nods, his voice sullen and suddenly so quiet. “Yeah, he was.”

“‘ _Was_ ’?” Alfred questions, stepping closer. “What do you mean ‘ _was_ ’?” Matthew is silent as he looks to the man’s eyes, slowly shaking his head. The man’s brows are furrowed in something resembling pain, but now it doesn’t seem to be a physical pain, even as tears begin to gather.

“That’s where all of the blood came from,” Matthew whispers, his own voice sounding so broken and traumatised, almost as if he’s living what the injured man is. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry…” His words are barely a whisper at this point, even as his hand ghosts over several bruises littered all over the man’s torso. Matthew’s unused hand lifts to his mouth, and the other follows just moments after. “I didn’t know, I’m…”

Matthew’s head shakes and he’s silent for several beats as his head lowers and he wipes an eye with the back of his hand. A sniffle. His head lifts; his shoulders square.

“Alfred, I need you to step out for a while. Go watch a movie, or something,” he says, and when Alfred attempts to protest, a threatening glare is sent over his shoulder to the alpha, who straightens and moves for the door. He wants to tell Matthew that if they need anything, just to holler, but the words don’t make it past his throat, and when he does finally find his voice, the door is shut behind him before he can turn around to say them, anyway.


	2. Toughing it Out

* * *

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.  
Do good anyway.

* * *

Several hours later, the door opens again and reveals Matthew, but the sound of the loose doorknob turning and unlatching has been burned into Alfred’s brain since the first time the injured omega was walked to the bathroom to be bathed. Even at that time, Matthew had snapped at Alfred not to look, but the Alpha’s curiosity got the best of him and he caught a glimpse just before the bathroom door was shut behind the pair. It didn’t gain him more than the knowledge that the injured omega is, at least, able to stand and walk, albeit slowly, but knowing that the guy didn’t just give out on his bed was good to know and calmed Alfred’s nerves, if only a smidge.

So when the door opens for a third time (the second having been after Matthew had taken the omega back into the bedroom) Alfred looks over his shoulder, a pillow held tightly by his arms and legs peeking over his shoulder as well. The movie playing on the television is barely above hearing volume, clearly left there as Alfred tried to listen for vocalisations of pain or suffering.

“He’s alright,” Matthew is the first to speak, breaking the almost-silence. “I gave him another ibuprofen before he fell asleep, but he’ll probably be hurting no matter what when he wakes up.” Alfred is sitting tall by now, having dropped the pillow and climbed up backwards onto the couch, now leaning over the back and looking at Matthew. “Be as quiet as you can, though, sleep will help him heal.”

Even as Alfred looks at the omega across the way, he can’t help but let that inquisitive expression slide directly out of his mind and onto his face. Matthew’s own expression looks to fall into suppressed disappointment, but he sighs and shakes his head, pulling the door shut behind him and crossing his arms.

“No, he didn’t tell me anything. Didn’t say much of anything at all, really. I don’t know what happened, but he… yeah, he’s not very happy.”

“I wouldn’t be, either,” Alfred nods, trying to be accepting of the fact that Matthew hasn’t gotten any information. “How long do you think he’ll need to stay here? If he’s staying here, I mean.” The omega looks over his shoulder at the shut door, his shoulders rising.

“I’m not sure, Alfred,” Matthew admits, shaking his head and looking down defeatedly at the alpha’s socks. “It’ll be a week at the very least, but if he’s not ready to go back into the world again…”

“I’ll take care of him.” Alfred sounds so sure of himself as he arches his back and rests both of his loose fists on his hips, his mouth curving up into a smile. “That’s what a hero would do, and I’m the hero, after all!” Matthew bristles and lifts his hands, hushing Alfred.

“Keep it down, will you? He’s barely asleep as it is.” Alfred looks like a child being scolded for a moment before that grin pops right back onto his face.

“Got it.”

“And don’t push him. Don’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to—”

“Jesus, Mattie, who do you think I am? I wouldn’t push an omega who has clearly been through a lot into—”

“Not just that, though, Alfred.” Matthew crosses his arms and looks up at the alpha, a stern look on his face. Just from that look alone, it’s obvious that he’ll be a great mother one day, Alfred knows it. “Don’t push him into telling you anything, or talking at all. Don’t ask about what happened. If he wants to tell you, he will.” Alfred nods to show that he’s listening and understanding. Why should Mattie be telling him this? That stuff’s obvious! “I’ll bring over some of my clothes tomorrow sometime, is that alright?”

Alfred cracks a grin. “Of course.” Matthew gives his own, smaller smile before lifting a hand and patting the alpha on the shoulder.

“You did a good thing tonight, Alfred. You might’ve just saved his life. I can’t think of anything more heroic.” Alfred’s grin spreads wider, teeth revealing themselves from behind upturned lips.

“Thanks, Mattie,” Alfred says, and the omega nods before turning and moving towards the door, showing himself out. Alfred stands there with that proud smile for a moment or two, just replaying those words over and over in his head before looking back towards the bedroom door. It’s surprisingly daunting, for being a door — one that is even _Alfred’s property_ — sitting there and doing nothing.

Alfred takes a step forward and gently touches the handle, turning it slowly and peeking in.

There the omega lies, the covers pulled high over his shoulders as he sleeps. He’s curled up so tightly that Alfred’s surprised he isn’t harming the wound on his stomach, and he wants to help straighten him out a bit, but as Matthew had pressed, he shouldn’t push the omega. It’s the first time they’ve ever seen each other, and enough has happened already. Alfred doesn’t want to risk it.

So he shuts the door again and moves back to the sofa, tugging that pillow from before back between his arms and getting himself horizontal. He’s able to knock himself out about fifteen minutes later with a movie he’s watched over a hundred times (but don’t get him wrong, still loves to death), just a bit before midnight.

* * *

It’s dark when Alfred wakes up. So dark, and even as he shuffles through his pockets, he can’t find his phone to shoot a beam of light out into the darkness, so he simply takes a few steps and feels around for the lightswitch, which should be around here some— aha!

Flicking the light into the upwards position, Alfred turns to look back at his apartment, wondering if there had been a power outage, but what he sees is nothing like his apartment. It’s like that alleyway again, and the omega is cowering in the corner just as Alfred had found him.

It’s startling, to say the least.

“Hey,” he says, realising that he still doesn’t know the omega’s name. It’s not like he’s been given the chance to ask, really, but he could also take the initiative and ask, right? He’ll probably do that as soon as he takes this Arthur home and gets him in bed— no, not that way. In the comforting, snuggle-up-and-watch-a-TV-show kind of get him in bed. He doesn’t see Matthew around, though. He… thought he already called Matthew? No, he couldn't have, his phone isn’t on him, and he can’t recall the last time it was.

Alfred shakes his head, wondering what happened in his mind to make him think up Matthew’s entire existence tonight, but it’s not the first time it’s happened, he supposes. People are always talking about how they thought Matthew was at a party when he really wasn’t, and how they thought Matthew was a no-show despite standing just a few feet away. It’s like he has some sort of ability to just _disappear_ for other people. It’s cool, in a way, but totally not fair.

He approaches the omega, kneeling just as he had however long ago. Did he black out because of the blood, or did something else happen? Is this a dream? No — it all feels too real. Even the feeling of the gravel and dirt pressing into his lower knee is enough to tell him that. Besides, he can smell the metallic twinge in the air from all of the blood pouring out onto the ground.

Holy _shit_ , that’s a lot of blood.

“Jesus,” Alfred says, suddenly so hyper-aware of the situation. How hadn’t he noticed how much there was? Was it really just that little cut making all of this, or also the… the baby? Could it be called a baby? Was the omega far enough along to make that call, or is it… no, Alfred, come on, think straight for just a second. This is no time for those kinds of thoughts. This is life and death, here.

He looks the omega over before looking down at his shirt, tugging it over his head and trying to figure out where to tug it in order to make it into strips. If it’s only how much Matthew… no, how does he know that? How has he seen it already, how has he pictured the omega lying in his bed, _in his apartment_ , already, and in such perfect detail?

“Alfred,” a voice says, and the alpha stops, though he doesn’t look up, shaking his head and continuing to tug at his shirt. “Alfred,” it repeats. He shakes his head again.

“Hold on, I’m trying to get it… I don’t know how much you need, or if…”

“Alfred, please.” He finally looks up to see the omega staring off towards Alfred’s right, and the alpha furrows his brow, looking that way as well. It’s only as he focuses on the grill of a car between two blinding headlights only a few metres away that his eyes widen and he lurches for the omega, moving to protect him. His eyes slam shut as he moves to clutch the omega’s shoulders, a move he knows is more instinctive than not. When he feels nothing beneath him, even as he reaches up, he opens his eyes.

There, Alfred sees the popcorn ceiling of his apartment.

The television to his right is projecting a dim blue light along the entire room as the title screen of the movie he’d been watching plays over again. The music is familiar, of course, but that’s not the sound Alfred focuses on, especially as he hears whimpering, then a sob, and then muffled words being said in a frightened tone.

Immediately, Alfred looks over his shoulder at the bedroom door, and sure enough, it sounds as if it’s coming from that room. The alpha pushes himself off of the couch and mutes the television, walking towards the door and leaning close to listen to what the omega is saying.

It still sounds like the omega is underwater or speaking to Alfred through a pillow, but that panicked tone still carries through clear as day. Alfred places his hand on the doorknob and gently pushes it open again, allowing the blue haze to settle in on the room. He looks in to see the omega still in his place, yet flipped to the other side and with the covers lowered much further than they had been the last time Alfred had seen him. They look like they’ve been tossed aside; like they were wrestled off.

Alfred sees, though, that the omega is grasping at the pillow he is resting upon, and the words he’s saying are clearer now, but Alfred still can’t understand them, so he moves closer to the bed, trying to hear.

It takes as long as trudging to the bedside for Alfred to realise he’s speaking a different language. It sounds something like Spanish or Italian, but somehow sounds like it isn’t either one of them. Whatever it is, it’s not English, and that worries Alfred. Have they picked up a foreign omega? Will Alfred be unable to converse with him, even after he is healed? Oh, geez. He really didn’t think this through, did he?

Alfred’s instincts act for him and he reaches out, placing a hand on the omega’s upper arm to ground him and signify that he is safe, but all it earns the Alpha is a pair of teary and terrified green eyes looking at him, then shooting back as the omega screams bloody murder. Alfred’s on his feet in seconds, backing up with his hands held in front of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Alfred shouts in response, trying to get the omega to stop. Gladly, he does, but the tension is still so thick that even Alfred can feel it. “I’m not here to hurt you, I saved you earlier, remember?” The alpha tries, then remembers the whole foreign language thing. He could always gesture — the universal language, as he has learned — but how in the hell is he supposed to explain everything with little movements of his hands? What could it come across as if he screws up?

He decides against gesturing, taking a step closer. The omega, as expected, pushes himself further away on the bed. Alfred sighs, looking to the lamp on his bedside table and reaching for it. The omega whines, a shoulder rising and his head turning to cower. Alfred stops where he is, slowing down.

“No, no, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says, frowning. He turns the little knob under the lampshade and delights in the sudden ability to see, but the omega’s face looks so much more pathetic when Alfred can actually see him. His face is covered in dried tear tracks and still-wet tears, his hair is a mess, his lips are trembling, and the shirt Matthew had dressed him in (one of Alfred’s) is hanging off of his left shoulder. He looks a mess. “Are you alright?”

The omega looks at him with that pitiful expression without a response, and Alfred fears he’s made himself look like a fool, then the omega slowly nods and sniffles, looking down at the bed, then around the room.

“Was it a nightmare? I didn’t mean to wake you up like that,” Alfred says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. The omega doesn’t answer this time, not acknowledging the question asked at all as he lies back down, facing the light and Alfred. “Do you want me to leave this on?”

The omega nods this time, and Alfred nods as well, though he knows the other man can’t see his movement, at least with those green eyes shut. So he heads for the door and hesitates there for a moment, then shuts the door behind him, returning to the sofa once again.


End file.
